


Hewwo

by gallifreyanlibertea



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, hewwo, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 19:22:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11996352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gallifreyanlibertea/pseuds/gallifreyanlibertea
Summary: Alfred's not sure if he can handle Arthur's... quirky trait.





	Hewwo

Alfred was by no means superficial.

He was never one to judge someone by a tiny character trait, whether it be physical or anything else at all. No, not even when the guy in his fourth period came to school with his hair as wild as it likely had been when he’d woken up that morning. Nor when he had fallen asleep in class once, leaving a thin line of drool on the corner of Alfred’s worksheet that had happened to be shifted a bit onto the guy’s desk.

Nope, because Arthur Kirkland was cute anyway and none of that stopped Alfred from asking him out on a study date, to which Arthur had replied with a blink. Then another, then another, as if he’d been shocked and awed at the thought of Alfred wanting to see him  _outside_  of school much less in it.

And though Arthur’s eyebrows were giant, or that his nose was a bit too sharp, it still turned a cute shade of pink as he put Alfred’s number into his phone, and as Alfred did the same, because Alfred was not superficial.

Not one bit.

But  _Lord Almighty_  was it hard sometimes, and Alfred knew quirks like this were to be taken lightly. It was a one-time thing, and it was probably nothing, and Alfred thought all of this after he’d texted Arthur’s number a:  _Hey, this is Alfred from APUSH! :^)_

And gotten a  _Hewwo, Alfred._  In response.

Perhaps he was trying to be cute. Alfred would never have expected it looking at the stern set of Arthur’s features, the deep, creamy accent of a documentary narrator. Yet it was times such as these when adages relating to appearances and “being judgy” and whatnot flooded his head and Alfred bit back his actions, so to say.

It was a typo, and nothing else, and he kept this in mind as he hesitantly confirmed their date.  _4PM at Panera?_

_Sounds good._  Arthur had responded.

Alfred dismissed the conversation with a slight frown, chalking it up to a typo, an assumption that had served as a pacifier to his somewhat restless soul for a grand total of an hour until Alfred had pulled up into the restaurant parking lot to a text buzzing in his pocket.

_Hewwo? I’m here and I don’t see you._

To which Alfred responded with a slightly audible mutter under his breath, a- “what?” because at this point, the chance of it being a typo was as slim as the chance of a guy like Arthur, who praised his skill of being an accomplished typist whenever they’d been assigned together for group work, spelling the same word wrong. Twice.

Maybe it was an English thing. Some sort of British slang that Arthur had stuck with despite having lived in the U.S. for a year. It made sense- with an accent as attractive as Arthur’s, there had to be downsides. Some sort of karmic universal balance.

Alfred never texted back a response seeing as at that point, he had already walked into the place and met Arthur’s gaze across the room. A small wave, a small smile, and  _oh God he was cute, let it be a second typo._

“Hey!” Alfred said.

“Hello,” Arthur replied, and thank the heavens.

It was a chorus of little baby angels crooning into Alfred’s ears. It was a bath of milk and honey, a repeated, never-ending orgasm, it was Arthur’s delicious pronunciation of the letter ‘l’, and Alfred thanked every god of every religion.

“Shall we get started studying, then?” Arthur said, and Alfred grinned.

“Let’s do some A.P. U.S. History!”

That was it. That had to be it. It had to be the end of this unpleasant little story, because there would be nothing else along those lines. Whatever had happened was done with, and Alfred wouldn’t have to think about it again. He wouldn’t have to follow through with the pathetic solutions he’d devised in his head- one being that he would just date Arthur under the condition that they would never text again.

Nope. It was unnecessary because it was over.

Well…

_Hewwo, Alfred? You left your wallet behind._

And he thought they had worked past this speed bump, because frankly, otherwise, he would never have been on this third date. He supposed that was what they were calling them now that their study sessions lacked studying and were spent gazing into each other’s eyes, talking about this and that and life and everything.

Alfred squinted down at the screen of his phone, turning his car off before he slipped back out into the parking lot, chest heaving in a sigh.

He then pursed his lips and replied. _Lol your lucky I never left the lot. I’ll be there in a sec :^)_

_*You’re_. Was Arthur’s response and Alfred grit his teeth because  _at least Alfred didn’t say “hewwo”._

Alfred walked back into the restaurant they’d been eating at to find Arthur grinning at him, waving Alfred’s wallet in his right hand.

“What would you do without me, Jones?”

Alfred smiled, albeit uneasily. “I’d be dead, Kirkland.”

Alright. Never text him again it is, because there was no way Alfred could keep himself from dating the boy behind that smile. The boy behind those fluffy bangs, the one that pulled the wallet away from Alfred’s reach with a snicker as Alfred leaned over to pluck it from his hands.

“Arthur, give it back, I really gotta go!” Alfred said with a borderline giggle. He found that he wasn’t as ashamed of it as he should’ve been.

“Then take it from me, you priss.”

“God, you’re so annoying!”

Arthur raised a brow at that, letting Alfred’s wallet drop into Alfred’s open palm with a smirk. “I’m the annoying one?”

“Yes.”

“I surely can’t be. You’re the one that insists on role playing ‘America’ and ‘England’ in place of studying because you think it’ll help you retain more information.”

Alfred tucked his wallet into his pocket, folding his arms with a pout. “The accents work, I’m tellin’ ya. And hey, I’m not the one that still has to bum rides from their parents because they got their permit too late, and then insists that I can’t give them a ride because they have too much pride.”

Now it was a competition. Arthur furrowed his brows. “I’m not the one that pours the milk before the cereal.”

“I’m not the one whose wardrobe only consists of the same sweaters in different colors.”

“At least I don’t use a colon, a carrot symbol and a parenthesis after each one of my texts like it’s supposed to make me look cute.” Arthur snapped, and Alfred raised his brows at that because  _wow._

_Wow._

He didn’t get whatever memo Arthur had gotten that meant this squabble would escalate into something that had Arthur’s cheeks slightly pink from anger, but Alfred could go there. He could definitely go there, because _boy_  did he have material.

Good, good material.

“At least I don’t pretend to be some sort of English expert and then turn around and use the word ‘hewwo’ like it’s no big deal.”

Arthur blinked. He furrowed his brows. He then tilted his head to the left. “Pardon?”

Alfred bit the inside of his cheek.

He never thought things through, did he? Little was the time he spent thinking of what exactly he would ensue with a dialogue like his. A defensive counter-argument at the least? A yelly disagreement punctuated with heated, and quite literal, finger pointing?

Arthur was prideful. It was something you’d think Alfred would come to understand, and come to stay away from harming, yet there he was, calling Arthur out for his strange usage of a meme that may or may not have been on accident.

“I beg your pardon?” Arthur squawked again and Alfred hesitantly pulled up their message chats on his phone, finger tapping at the screen where, without error, Arthur had managed to send the word “hewwo” not once, not twice, but hell, many more times than the look in Arthur’s eyes gave away that he meant to do, which was, in this case, zero.

Arthur looked positively clueless.

“What in hell?”

“You weren’t doing this on purpose?”

Arthur squinted down at Alfred’s screen, taking matters into his own hands, matters being Alfred’s phone, and taking the time to squint at it harder. He then scrambled to reach for his own phone incredulously, as if Alfred had doctored the texts somehow. As if once Arthur opened the chat on his own phone, it would all be gone.

It wasn’t gone. Arthur mumbled incoherent curses under his breath as his thumbs twiddled a message into the chat. Alfred saw as he hurriedly typed  _“hello”._

It sent. Alfred looked into his own phone, Arthur into his. A gasp.  _“Hewwo”._

_“Hewwo.”_

_“Hewwo!”_

_“HEWWO!”_

Alfred bit back a snicker as Arthur’s face changed shades before Alfred’s very eyes. A pasty pale to a rosy pink. To a darker red. His hands lowered his phone to the tabletop as eyes traveled up to meet Alfred’s gaze.

Alfred cleared his throat. “Looks to me like someone tinkered with your phone and changed the autocorrect settings.”

And by the expression on Arthur’s face, Alfred gathered that Arthur knew who it was.

But it didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter that Arthur had left with a hurried goodbye, or that he’d refrained from texting Alfred that night, even though it definitely  _had_  mattered to Alfred while it had happened.

It had mattered waiting up in bed, checking for a text. It had mattered searching for those green eyes in the crowded halls between classes. It had mattered, yes, the feeling manifesting itself as a brick lodged in the pit of his stomach, but he supposed that all went away coming to fourth period to find Arthur squirming in his seat, eyes glancing up to meet Alfred’s gaze, lips twisting into a small, apologetic smile.

“I fixed it.”

Alfred took his seat. “I’m assuming you kicked their ass? Whoever, uh, did that to your phone?”

“Thoroughly. I- I honestly had no idea I was doing it!”

A small bit of silence. The bell rang and Alfred fished his notebook out of his backpack, turning back in his chair to find Arthur looking at him expectantly.

“You know- I, ah, I find your little text-emoticon-face-things rather endearing. I think it’s cute.”

Alfred let himself smile and Arthur’s eyes sparkled. “Thanks, I guess.”

It was an apology of its own, Alfred supposed. Something to mark the emergence of something new, from things prior that were very, _very_  bad. He supposed he understood the embarrassment of meeting a potential lover with a first impression such as the one Arthur had managed to make. Or, even further, the many other texts Arthur had sent to  _many others_  that had resulted more or less in the same, embarrassing explanation. It made him want to be nicer to the boy who was now looking at him as if expecting a further response.

But Alfred couldn’t help it. “As long as we’re being honest, I don’t think you’re ever living the ‘hewwo’ thing down, Kirkland, so expect me to bring it up at McDonald’s tonight, four PM.”

Arthur looked as if he didn’t know quite whether to smile or frown.  

**Author's Note:**

> An anon wanted Artie to say "hewwo".


End file.
